Unwrapped: a MMF Holiday Romance

by Taryn Quinn

  All at once, last Friday night at the cabin and Val’s phone call came back to her. She’d forgotten all about it in the chaos of the past week.

  Instead of making an effort to talk to Val while Cait had been staying at their mom’s, she’d been too focused on her own problems. As usual.

  “Shit.”

  His brows knitted together. “What’s the matter?”

  She hesitated, then decided to say the rest of what was on her mind. More than anything, she missed not having him as a confidant. Though she normally told her secrets to Matt, she’d always known she could share them with Tristan too. She usually didn’t, because he tended to always be busy with work.

  But there was another reason. She couldn’t stand for Tristan to see her as the judgmental person she knew she was. She fought that side of herself—or at least she was beginning to—but it was there.

  With Matt, being her real, unvarnished self had always seemed easier, probably because she hadn’t cared as much about preserving his good opinion of her. But the past couple of weeks had shown Tris exactly what she was made of.

  And what she wasn’t.

  She let out a breath. “Something is going on with Val,” she murmured, running her fingers through his chest hair. “She won’t talk about it.”

  “Well, she’s fourteen. Kind of goes with the territory.”

  “I’m just so afraid it’s a boy. What if she screws up her life over some crush that would’ve died out if she hadn’t pushed too hard too fast?”

  “Sounds like you’re talking from experience,” he said lightly.

  She blushed, but not for the reason he probably thought. “Can’t qualify what I had for you as a crush. Or Matt for that matter.”

  “Me either.” He wound a lock of her hair around his finger. “Why do you think it’s a boy with Val?”

  “I don’t know. Prior experience. I know the signs. The secretiveness, having trouble in school—”

  “She could be on drugs.”

  “My baby sister is not on drugs.”

  “Maybe she’s in a gang.”

  “Funny. She’s the most nonviolent kid ever. Won’t even kill mosquitoes.”

  “All right, suppose she’s a lesbian.”

  Cait’s fingers stilled. “Why would you say that?”

  “Hmm. The only one you didn’t argue with.” Tristan smoothed his thumb over her cheekbone. “Could be I’m overly sensitive to it, considering the year I’ve had.”

  “Overly sensitive to what?”

  “How a person changes when they start questioning their sexuality.”

  “You’re not—” she began, then felt like an idiot when he grinned. She’d seen and heard him have sex with Matt, for heaven’s sake.

  Though logically she knew bisexual was just a term—just as lesbian and gay were—it seemed like such a cold, flat designation for the men she loved.

  They couldn’t be labeled and stuck into boxes. No one should be.

  “I’m bi, as evidenced by the fact I can’t keep my hands off you.” He stroked her hair as if she were his most priceless possession. Her inner feminist might’ve squawked at that, but it was hard to stand—or lie—on ceremony when you were as sated and happy as she was.

  So happy.

  “I've never thought of another woman that way,” she said thoughtfully.

  “Well, I’d never thought of another guy till Matt. The thing people forget is you fall in love with whomever you’re meant to. It’s not always about their sex, but who they are.”

  “But Val—”

  “Val’s a young girl. I’m not saying she’s a lesbian, Caity. I’d never make that supposition about someone. But she could be. Who’s to say what’s going on with her?”

  “It’s because she plays sports, isn't it?” Cait stared hard at the beige bedspread. “You’re going with the stereotype.”

  “No,” he said quietly. “I’m going with what I saw last week when I stopped by your place to drop off Connie’s old crib.”

  “Connie’s crib? Your mom’s parting with that?” Easier to jump on that than to question what Tristan had seen.

  “It was time. I told her Marnie could use a sturdy one. Better to put it to good use than to have it sitting around in a dusty closet.”

  “But what if you need it someday?” When he arched a brow at her, she wanted to chew her tongue off.

  Sure, right. Bring up kids when you’re in the mother of all fucked-up situations.

  “Not thinking about kids yet.” He touched her cheekbone. “Are you?”

  Her heart was beating so fast that she feared hyperventilation would be next. “No. Not yet. Too soon. Too—”

  “Too complicated.”

  She swallowed, nodding. “But maybe someday.”

  One corner of his mouth tipped up. “You’d be a good mother.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. You’re great with kids. I’ve seen it.”

  “I could be the one infertile turtle in the bunch,” she said, causing him to laugh.

  “Infertility’s tough.” He cleared his throat. “But sometimes it’s better if people don’t have kids. Genetically. You know, because of my sister. CF’s carried in DNA.”

  “So you don’t want kids?”

  Why did that bother her? She wasn’t ready for a child, and they hadn’t discussed any of this. With Matt in the picture, the complications were enormous.

  Just how did someone—three someones—figure out something like that, anyway? And why was she thinking about it? They weren’t family planning.

  Yet. There were a lot of yets in her life right at the moment.

  “More that it’s not really responsible for me to consider it. At least the way I view things. I understand why people take the risk, but if I didn’t have to…”

  “Why wouldn’t you have to?” All at once, she understood. “You’re saying me and Matt could…”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.” He rubbed his thumbs along her cheekbones, keeping a tactile link between them while she processed her whirling thoughts. “They’d be mine just as much as if they were biological.”

  Rather than reply, she burrowed into his embrace, waiting until his arms tightened around her to ask what she didn’t want to know. Even hearing more about Val was better than talking about potential children she could potentially have with Matt if they all ended up together. “What did you see with Val?”

  “So that’s the end of that deep, insightful conversation. You and Matt are two peas, all right.” He let out a short laugh. “You know the playground next to your mom’s building.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Val was there. On the swings. But she wasn’t alone. There was another girl with her, and they were kissing.” He sighed when she frowned. “I knew you’d flip.”

  “I’m not flipping. I’m just…concerned.” She bit her lip. “Could it have been an innocent kiss?”

  “No.” His answer was so definitive she wondered what else had happened. “There was touching too,” he said at length.

  She rolled off him and onto the bed, balling the sheets in her fists. “I don’t want her to have to deal with people judging her. Thinking she’s less than because she’s not the same.” Hot tears pricked the backs of her eyes. “I love her so much. How can I help her with this?”

  “By doing just that. Loving her. You can’t take her pain away or make different choices for her,” he said gently, turning on his side to cup her cheek. “But you can be there for her and let her know you’ll support her no matter what.”

  “I will. Of course I will. If she’s happier with women, I’m fine with that. I’m already getting used to the idea.”

  “Want me to talk to her?”

  Cait’s eyes rounded. “No. Why? No.”

  “Breathe,” he suggested, caressing her collarbone. “It was just an idea.”

  “No, thanks. Don’t want to overwhelm her.”

  “Or you,” he said, smiling as he k
issed her neck. “Since you look like you swallowed a pickle whole.”

  She nearly made a dirty joke and decided it wasn’t the right time. “I’ll wait till she comes to me on her own. If she does. I hope she knows she can. Tomorrow. I’ll make sure to talk to her tomorrow…” She trailed off at the brush of his fingers through the silky curls shielding her pussy. With one touch, she was warm and wet again. He nudged her legs open and swirled his thumb over her clit. “Um, what were we talking about?”

  “Me making you come. Hard.” His voice took on a sensual edge. “I’m going to put my head between your thighs again. Except this time, I want you to do the same.”

  She blinked. “I’m not that flexible.”

  He laughed, the sound velvety smooth. “Your head between my legs, silly.”

  “Oh.” Then as realization dawned, she said it once more. “Oh. Sixty-nine.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  From the way he was trying not to smile, she had to figure she looked as clueless as she felt. Not that she didn’t know what sixty-nine was. Nowadays every kid had probably heard that term by junior high. Heck, she’d even done it. But something about Tristan made her feel like a virgin in every sense of the word. There were so many things he’d experienced she couldn’t even imagine. He had a mirror over the bed, for pity’s sake. She was pretty sure he hadn’t put it up there just to complement the room’s design.

  When he grinned, she grinned back. “I’m hopeless, aren’t I?”

  “Far from it. You’re perfect.” He lifted her chin and kissed her, his lips molding to hers as if they belonged there.

  The quick stutter in her heartbeat, she expected. The heat in her eyes when he slipped back, she didn’t. And this time, she wasn’t crying because she intended to let him go.

  She couldn’t. Even five days’ separation had opened up a vast hollow of pain inside her, one only he and Matt could fill. As hard and scary as it was to think of going for it, of really planning a life with them, she couldn’t spend any more time living on opposite sides of this divide.

  She’d tried to tell herself things would get better, that all they needed was time. Eventually they would be able to reclaim their previous friendship. But they couldn’t. She couldn’t look at Tristan and not want to be in his arms. She couldn’t laugh with Matt and not remember his dirty, sexy comments when they were in bed.

  The three of them fit, and pretending otherwise only made liars out of them all.

  If they went for the whole enchilada and people looked down on her, she’d deal. If her family freaked, she’d handle it. What she couldn’t deal with was losing the two people who mattered most to her in the world just because she was afraid.

  “Tristan,” she whispered, forcing his name out over the lump in her throat.

  “What?”

  She fumbled for his hand and drew it up to her chest. “I’m really scared.”

  His eyes darkened, and he clenched his jaw. “Caity—”

  “No. No. You’re not getting it.” With effort, she managed to smile. “I want this. I want to be with you.”

  He stared at her, not smiling, barely breathing. “And Matt?”

  She nodded. “And Matt.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed several times as if he couldn’t stop swallowing. Then he enfolded her in a bear hug, squeezing her so tightly her lungs compressed from lack of oxygen. “Oh, baby, you won’t regret it. I promise. We’re going to make you so happy you won’t ever wonder if you made the right choice.” He kissed her hungrily. “God, I love you.”

  She turned her face into his neck and let out a long breath. As nervous as she was, she was excited too. So excited about the future and what it might bring.

  “I love you too,” she said, curling her fingers over his speeding heart.

  Chapter 12

  Matt pulled off his jacket and dropped it on his desk chair, rolling his neck to get out the kinks. The quietness of the office surprised him. Though it was past midnight, he’d come in to find all the lights blazing downstairs and the smell of Manny’s pizza and blazing hot chicken wings—they never gave him a break—hanging in the air.

  His stomach growled, and he sighed as he headed into the kitchenette. Even hot wings would be better than the stringy casserole he’d had foisted on him at Aunt Edna’s. At least Edna had convinced his mom to spend the night, so he wouldn’t have to stand around wondering when the other shoe would drop and she’d discover her son and his roommates were no longer platonically living together.

  At the moment, no one could be more platonic than they were, but still.

  He frowned at the bottle of beer foaming across the floor. Maybe they’d had a reconciliation dinner and forgotten to clean up? Weird. His lovers weren’t neatniks, but this went beyond.

  A sound from upstairs caught his attention, and he stopped with his hand on the fridge. Female giggling. Either Tristan had a woman over or Cait had taken some happy pills.

  Shoving aside his hunger for the moment, he headed upstairs, his stomach strangely tight. If Cait was giggling, that had to be a good sign, right?

  He checked her section of the loft first and found it empty. But the giggling amplified, making him smile. He loved her laugh. So free and fun. It had been too long since he’d heard that sound.

  Slowly, he approached Tris’s rooms. He didn’t know what he’d find. Didn’t know what he even wanted to find. If they’d made up, he’d have to face something—someone—he really wasn’t ready to. Mainly his mother. Or he’d have to convince Tris to put a lid on his desire to confess to the world.

  Either way it was Christmas Eve, and he really didn’t want to deal with any of it tonight.

  “Shit.” The expletive exploded from him when he caught sight of the scene on Tristan’s bed. So much for a reconciliation dinner. Tris had made a feast out of something else entirely.

  Cait was lying with her butt flush to the headboard, her legs spread in a wide V against the wall. Tristan had his head between her legs and his dick in the giggling vixen’s mouth.

  They didn’t hear him, unshockingly, so he pulled a Cait and lingered in the doorway, watching openly as Tristan brought her to a toe-curling orgasm. Her pink toenails dug into the wall, heels arching, muscles trembling in her long, shapely thighs. She dragged her mouth off Tris’s cock long enough to breathe, turning her head toward the doorway.

  Her double take was almost comical. With Tristan’s powerful legs framing her smile, she stared at Matt and crooked a finger.

  Matt released a long breath. God, they were so sexy together, these crazy people he loved. He stepped forward, stopped. Took another step and stopped again.

  A journey of a thousand miles—or across the bedroom in this case—sometimes required a lot more to begin than a single step. It required him to man up.

  He ran a hand over his hair and closed his eyes. “Look, I’m happy you made up. I really am. But my mom’s in town, and I can’t just hop into bed with you both. Especially if it’s only a temporary, while-it-lasts thing. So if you two want to—”

  Hearing Tristan’s obvious sigh, Matt opened his eyes and absorbed his best friend’s patient grin.

  “Not while it lasts,” Cait whispered, drawing his attention.

  Tristan kissed Cait’s knee, his gaze lasered on Matt. “You in or out?”

  Such a simple question. Such a complicated answer.

  Matt dipped his hands in his pockets and fought to think with the part of him that wasn’t taut with need against the stiff material of his jeans. “You don’t really mean it,” he said, instead of addressing Tristan. “You’ll freak out and run home to mommy, and we’ll have to go through this again. I can’t do it, Cait. Dealing with him and you and my mom all at once is just too much.”

  Before he said anything more, he turned on his heel and walked down the connecting hall to his own set of rooms. He went straight into the bedroom and stripped off his shirt. His jeans and boxers took a little more work considering his massive hard-on
, but he gritted his teeth and got it done. He’d just reached for the sleep pants he’d tossed on his pillow when soft footsteps crossed his hardwood living room floor.

  Even without looking, he knew it was Cait.

  “You hiding out in here?” she asked, padding inside his room. She sat on the edge of his bed directly in his line of sight. No avoiding her.

  At least she’d pulled on some clothes. Or what passed for them anyway. The cuffs of Tris’s shirt dangled off her hands, making her seem even more fragile. Yet the expression she wore was fierce.

  “Not hiding,” he said, pulling up the silky pants quickly in the hope of concealing his sizable erection. But from the smirk toying with her lips, she’d seen plenty. “I’m just not being sucked in again.”

  “So what if I suck?”

  She rose and sauntered over to him before kneeling at his feet. Her gaze remained on his as she pulled him free of his pajamas and swiftly drew the dark red head of his cock between her lips. “Mmm. Looks like you enjoyed the show.” Smiling, she flicked her tongue around the rim and cleaned up the drops of precum that had escaped.

  Matt closed his eyes. God, she definitely wasn’t a virgin at giving BJs.

  Or anything else anymore.

  She dipped the tip of her tongue in the slit, sliding back and forth. She moaned around him when he fisted his hands in her hair, directing her to swallow more. To take all of him and use those talented throat muscles to push him over. She worked harder, her cheeks hollowing for maximum suction.

  “Yeah. Fuck yeah.” He growled and dragged her up and down his dick. She didn’t hold back, making delicious little slurping noises that shoved him closer to the end zone. Then she uttered a sound of approval, a purring hum, and he lost it.

  A red haze descended over his vision, and his balls cramped. Her mouth felt too damn good, and he’d missed her so much, even over the past couple of days. After experiencing this with her—with them—how could she have asked them to go back to “just friends”?

  Why had he pretended he could?

  “Cait,” he whispered, drawing her back just enough so he could stare into her slumberous blue eyes.